


Honey, I'm Home

by colazitron, theprincessed



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis goes to watch <i>The X-Factor</i> at Zayn's. When he comes home, Harry's waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey, I'm Home

**Honey, I'm Home**

By the time Harry hears the click of the front door being unlocked, he thinks he’s calmed down, but evidently he hasn’t.

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis calls, the edge of a ridiculous giggle in his voice like every single time he does this. Harry’s fingers clench around the glass of water he’s holding and he has to swallow and lick his lips because his mouth is suddenly dry. He feels hot all over again and a shiver races down his spine. He’s set the glass down and is walking through the living room into the foyer before he even registers it. Louis is slipping off his shoes when he turns to Harry.

“My, Harry, how naked you are,” he says, his laugh a little startled, but he knows better than to ask why. It’s Harry. Sometimes Louis wonders how he even puts clothes on at all. He knows that as well, actually, it’s just because Harry is the littlest bit vain and likes the way his outfits make him look and make people look at him.

“The better to seduce you with,” Harry grins back without missing a beat and steps closer to peck him on the lips in greeting.

“Have fun at Zayn’s?” he asks.

“Yeah, actually,” Louis starts, snapping out of the nudity induced trance and pulling off his coat and hanging it up while he continues to speak. “Was a good show, Frankie didn’t choose the best song, but he- whoa.”

Harry cuts Louis off by grabbing him at the shoulders and pushing him back against the door.

“You know what, I really don’t care,” he says before smashing their lips together in a heated kiss. Louis’s obviously surprised, but gets with the program quickly, instinct kicking in. He grabs for Harry’s curls with one hand and winds the other around Harry’s naked waist. Harry shivers closer, because Louis’ hand and arm are cold from outside but then so is his entire front and he suddenly realises with clarity that he’s completely starkers, while Louis is still completely not.

“What’s with the enthusiastic hello?” Louis pulls back to ask, his voice lowered because they’re so close.

“You pushed me into the couch and snogged the living daylights out of me before sauntering off to watch The X-Factor at Zayn’s, that’s what’s with the hello!”

Louis has the audacity to snigger at that and just for that, Harry has half a mind of making him sleep on said couch tonight, but there’s still the slight matter of every cell of his body feeling on fire and wanting to be far closer to Louis, like, four hours ago.

“Miss me?” Louis grins, teasing.

“Oh god, shut up,” Harry says, but can’t help the brief smile that passes over his lips because for some reason he loves this bloody idiot. The smile melts away when he kisses Louis again and this time he winds his arms around Louis’ neck and pulls him closer, moaning when Louis’ hand travels up and down his spine.

“That why you’re naked then? For me?”

“Uh-huh. Had to do something. You left me in a right state,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips because he really does just want him to shut up and follow through on all the things his kisses and hands promised about four hours ago.

At that little tidbit of information, Louis feels energy begin to build and thrum beneath his skin and he feels alive, in control, like he could do whatever he wanted to Harry and he wouldn't get any complaints. Even the fact that he went and had a few beers over at Zayn's and can probably faintly taste them in their kissing doesn't seem to bother him. If anything, Harry is chasing Louis' tongue with much interest and the attack is making Louis feel wonderfully breathless and almost dizzy, especially when Harry starts fidgeting in his arms. Louis tightens his grip because can't decide whether it’s to stop or encourage him. Still, Harry presses closer into him and they actually stay stuck like that until Louis finds it in himself to get a better purchase and take the reins like Harry so obviously craves. Louis slides his hands low to Harry's back then quickly grabs his arse with both, digging in his fingers and spreading him open ever so slightly, as a simple side effect of the move. Harry moans against him, tucking his face down into his shoulder and holding on for dear life, like what Louis' doing is another promise that he's begging him to fulfill. Their kiss turns sloppy and it becomes imperative that they do this _now_. From the way Harry is so warm and enthusiastic towards him, Louis doesn't think that he'd be fussy about where they do this. On the floor, standing up against a wall, his legs wrapped around Louis' waist and maybe the fact that Louis remains fully clothed doesn't matter to him either.  
Harry trails his mouth to his ear. "Need you to fuck me. You have no idea how much."

Louis thinks he can probably guess and can see it in action as Harry clings onto him and he pulls him apart again, just to hear that helpless moan. His fingers are less conservative now with their movements, but Louis soon stops short.

“Jesus, Harry," he breathes, leaning away to look into his emotional face, "What've you...have you...?"

Harry nods, kissing Louis' cheek and speaking in quick, hushed tones, "Had to. Was thinking about you the whole time. Couldn't wait for you to get home."

Louis swallows hard against the images of Harry being alone but wanting _him_ enough to be impatient and prepare himself to be ready. Still, his protective streak kicks in and he presses a kiss to Harry's temple before sidestepping his hold. Behind one of the sofas in the living room is a table with the house phone and answering machine. Harry can't help the whine when Louis goes to leave, but he hangs off the back of him anyway, the heat of his bare skin like its melting through Louis' clothes. He opens the shallow drawer in the table - emergency supplies.

Harry flicks his earlobe with his tongue. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you just once tonight."

Harry's knees would probably weaken and make him fall if Louis doesn't choose that moment to pull him around from behind so that they're in the position they were at the door. They go back to kissing and with every time Harry manages to get a cheeky hand underneath Louis' t-shirt; Louis pushes him backwards until Harry's leaning against, nearly sitting on the table. Its big enough, it should probably be used for more than a phone, but suddenly they're grateful that it’s not and they're sure they've suddenly found another use for it.

Louis grabs Harry around the waist and turns him around to face the wall for easier access and to see the slope of his spine down his slender back. He rips open the packet of lube - emergency supplies, they don't keep an entire tube in there - and coats his fingers quickly. He can push two of them into Harry with ease, already stretched and slippery and he leans in closer, Harry's hands braced against the table top and the wall, his head hanging a little, his back moving with the heaving breaths he takes to try and calm down, but it's so hard with Louis' body radiating heat right behind him, so close, but not close enough and then even closer when Louis pushes in a third finger and kisses his neck, his nose buried in the curls that start to go damp with sweat.

"Jesus, Harry, you weren't kidding around. Did you get yourself off like this?" he whispers and Harry whimpers a little in answer. It feels overwhelming that Harry wants him this much, that he falls apart so easily for him and Louis can't help how it brings out a bit of his mean streak, makes him want to see how much he can play with Harry before he shatters.

"Just you and your fingers and thoughts of me?"

Harry bites his lip, reluctant to say anything because the memory will feel like its spearing him right in the gut and bring it all rushing back. Still, he forgets that Louis has the power to make him do and say a lot and Louis pushes his fingers into Harry again and then crooks them ever so slightly, rubbing confidently that he wants the answer dragged out of him. Harry grips the table tighter and grits his teeth, although he clearly must do something without his complete conscious permission, like nod his head, because Louis speaks again.

"Did you come?"

"Uh huh..."

"Shower?" and then Louis shuts his eyes tight against the images that creates and the implications he's just accidentally attached to it, even though all he meant was _to get clean._ "Please say yes."

Harry straightens up enough that he can put an arm around and pull Louis in a little by the back of his thigh. He twists his neck too, to try and catch Louis' eye but Louis' looking at the last fading lovebite on Harry's neck and has the sudden urge to make sure it doesn't disappear. Harry sees that familiar expression and can smirk, momentarily with the upper hand. "You _were_ gone for hours. Had to occupy myself somehow."

Louis breathes out, like his control is fraying and he's trying to claw it back. To be demonstrative, he bends Harry down towards the table again with his free hand that slips back to rest on Harry's naked hip. Louis hears that all too knowing, dirty laugh and relishes the sound going straight to his cock, rubbing his crotch against Harry's buttock to make him quit it. Although they both know that in the end Harry will inevitably give himself over to Louis, he puts up a fight, like it's etiquette, like he's supposed to but mostly because he wants to.

"Getting a bit desperate there, Lou?" Harry asks, not turning around to face him, his voice a little muffled by the fact that his head is hanging and he's basically speaking to a wall. Louis pulls away and trails his sticky hand down Harry's spine, right between his buttocks, shoving three fingers into him without warning. Harry gasps but takes it without complaint and that fries a large part of Louis' brain, but he's got it together enough to start babbling. Words are the way to wresting control from Harry. Louis is chatty, always is and Harry hangs on to his words, drinks them in like they're parts of Louis he can keep for himself. It's hot in its own right, how they fit together even like that and they've managed to talk and listen themselves into a frenzy over the silliest things before. But like this, with Louis' voice low and rough and just this side of growly, it goes straight to Harry's cock and makes him mewl and roll over - figuratively _and_ literally.

"You really think you're in a position to talk about desperate, Harry? I was only gone for a few hours and yet look at you. You couldn't even keep your hands to yourself for that short a time. Did you even take off all your clothes before you started touching yourself? Or did you get a few cheeky rubs of your cock in through your trousers, hm? Were you even in the bedroom or out here where we have guests over? You naughty boy."

Louis pulls away completely then, opening his trousers quickly and shoving them and his underwear down over his hips, passing his lubed hand over his cock quickly before leaning forward again and pressing it in between Harry's buttocks, rubbing up and down teasingly.

"Did you start in right on your arsehole? Lube up your fingers and spread your legs wide, pushing in and wishing for my cock to fill you? Hm?"

Harry whimpers and pushes back against him and there's something that might be "Lou" in there.

"Well, you're about to get your wish," Louis whispers and leans over Harry's naked back, sinking his teeth into the back of his neck as he pushes inside.

"You're no better," Harry chokes out on a gasp, to duel with Louis still at the forefront of his mind, to make him realise that he _will_ miss out if he goes wandering off without Harry tagging along. "Standing here, too turned on to get out of your clothes. At least I _came prepared_."

Louis hears all the no doubt intended innuendo and groans, straightening up to fully appreciate Harry bent over and pushing back on his cock with an impatient wiggle. "Fuck, you did." he agrees, suddenly too caught up in the moment to think about not giving Harry an inch. In fact, he's treated to more than inch but its slow and drawn out. Mostly as a note of caution to proceedings, but also because Louis likes to tease. He pushes forward, the slide easing in with every motion, and then swivels his hips on an angle, watching Harry's body react like a quivering, squeezing tangle of limbs. Before he's even conscious of it, Louis' moving a palm back and then bringing it around, smacking Harry on the arse before he gropes at the flesh with rough, nimble fingers. The sound that falls from Harry's mouth is confused but no less aroused, struggling for breath and yet making shocked noise. It seems to kickstart him for real until he's moaning on every thrust _and_ every slide out that accompanies it.

To get a more steadfast grip on him, Louis moves one hand off Harry's hips and grabs a generous fistful of curls. Harry tilts his head downwards like permission for Louis to force it back for him and, with only a brief hesitation, Louis yanks.

"You're _mine_ ," he says fiercely, with the level of certainty Harry's always felt but was never completely sure was returned.

Harry grins, exhilarated. "What about Frankie?"

"Oh fuck off!" Louis laughs and because he can't see Harry's grin through the smack to his arse this time, Harry makes sure to throw him a pleased look over his shoulder.

Something about the way their bodies are connected and the quick onslaught of giggles ups the pleasure tenfold, although it’s just as confusing as the sting of pain that grows hot and bold across Harry's skin, unsure whether to snigger some more or moan for all their worth. Still, he curls in on himself just to hear Louis growl and feel him pull his hair like the demanding, challenging lover he is.

The heel of Louis’ palm digs into the back of Harry’s neck, right where the sensitive skin meets his hairline and he pushes Harry’s head down in between the hands he has braced against the wooden table top, while still pulling at his hair. Not to keep his head up, but just to keep the slight burn rushing across his scalp, matching the tingling on the skin of his arse. Harry can’t stop the noises that tumble from his lips and clenches around Louis’ cock, wanting to feel the drag of every inch of his skin inside him as much as possible. There must be something in the way he behaves that prompts Louis to smack his already stinging arse again and even though Harry wouldn’t usually think of himself to enjoy being _punished_ , this doesn’t feel like that. It feels like bursting at the seams with a burning heat that centers around Louis and he needs as much of Louis as Louis can give. He wants to tear himself open and bury Louis inside and when Louis lets go of his hair to trail his short fingernails down over his back, Harry shivers and his knees turn to jelly and this is exactly what he needs and not in any way enough.

“More, more, more, Lou, please,” he begs and tries to stop himself from babbling even more nonsense, but a garbled litany of “please” escapes him even through clenched teeth. The accommodating harder scratch of Louis’ nails across his back tears the beginning of a high-pitched, broken moan out of him, his vocal cords giving out on it halfway through. The sound is picked up by Louis and thrown back at Harry in a rough growl. When Louis bends over him again and traces the burning lines on Harry’s back with his teeth, Harry flinches with the shock at first, his spine bending towards and away from Louis, not knowing where to go. The motion pushes Louis deeper inside, but restricts his movement, the long, hard thrusts turning into sharp, deep jabs that push right into Harry’s prostate, when Louis cants his hips just so.

“Fuck,” Harry curses under his breath, but with feeling behind it and Louis chuckles against the skin of his back and pulls at it sharply, sucking a bruise in between his shoulder blades while one arm snakes around Harry’s torso and he traces a finger around one of Harry’s hardened nipples, pressing the blunt edge of the nail into the soft skin almost hard enough to cut. Harry whimpers and briefly wonders how long he can keep on his feet.

“This what you want? Is gentle not enough for you?” Louis whispers, pressing his fingernail harder into Harry’s skin. “Want me to own you? Rough you up a bit? Mark you? Make it so you can feel it for days?”

His nail breaks through the skin at the last part and Harry feels overwhelmed and strangely relieved and pushes back onto Louis’ cock and forward onto the fingernail that tears his skin open and the “thank you, yes, please, Lou” tumbles out of his mouth unbidden.

"Okay then," Louis says easily and feels Harry's chest move outwards towards his hand with an anticipatory breath that makes him hold the next one in. He reluctantly starts breathing again, a hiss through his teeth, when Louis bites his earlobe. "Hold yourself open for me."

Knowing that Harry won't completely understand for a moment makes his grin wider as he puts a hand to the small of Harry's back and withdraws his cock. He stays still though and Louis can't quite work out whether it’s on purpose or not. Whatever the reason, he licks his lips and leans over, pulling Harry's forearms away. In a second, Louis could manhandle him any which way and Harry would have to do it or lose his balance. Instead of being entirely mean, Louis directs the palms of Harry's hands to his arse, indeed holding himself wide without any of Louis' help. Trying to get a look at what his boyfriend is up to, Louis watches him rest his cheek against the table and try to twist his neck just so to be able to see behind. The rustle of clothes as Louis steps out of his tangled underwear and trousers must placate him enough not to protest or question and the power rushes to Louis' head, making him briefly dizzy. He can't last being away from Harry as much as it is vice versa, so he at least moves close again then lowers to his knees, biting at his lip.

"Are you just gonna do what I say?" Louis actually asks, can scarcely believe it himself, as he traces the edge of Harry's foot with a hand.

But it feels like all the air in his lungs is punched out with one simple but effective blow to the chest when Harry defies that and passes the tips of his fingers over his hole, dipping in to feel how pulled apart he is for himself. Forgetting his t-shirt, Louis lunges forward on Harry's moan, not caring if hands obstruct his tongue but just knowing that he has to taste him. Harry keens and lightly knocks his forehead against the table. The sound of it anyway makes Louis ease back and he strokes his own hands up the back of Harry's thighs, soothing.

"Please," he begs, wrecked, "Finish it, finish _me_ , fuck, Louis,"

Louis drops a kiss to the mess of wet knuckles in front of him. "Turn around, babe." Pulling his arms back to the table to help with the leverage, Harry shakily faces Louis with a slight frown. Louis smiles, patting the top of the table. "Up."

Harry's breathing stutters as he sits on the cool, polished wood with flesh that smarts a little from the earlier rough treatment. He draws Louis in for a full kiss before he has a chance to show any concern, wrapping his legs wantonly around Louis' waist. Louis curls a lick against Harry's upper lip as he breaks from their lip lock with a chuckle.

"I can take a hint." he says, as he feels one big hand palm his arse to shove him forward and the other up the front of his t-shirt, trying to get it off.

Harry quirks an eyebrow, breathing hard but grinning, "Really? First time in your life."

“Oh, make no mistake, just because I choose not to take hints, doesn’t mean I don’t see them,” Louis grins back, grabbing Harry’s wrists from under his t-shirt and on his arse and pulling them back, placing them behind Harry on the wooden surface. Harry whines in the back of his throat, his eyebrows coming together, displeased, because he wants to see Louis.

“Sh,” Louis smiles, almost too kindly, and presses a finger against Harry’s open lips, his hot breath rushing past Louis’ finger and leaving a slight, damp film on it.

“Want me to take this off?” he asks, pulling at the neckline and then letting it snap back against his own skin. Harry nods impatiently and licks his lips as his eyes track the movement of the soft cotton.

“What will you give me in return?” Louis grins, his eyes full of challenge. Harry swallows and opens his mouth, fully prepared to promise Louis anything, when Louis cuts him off.

“You’ve got nothing left to offer, love. You’re naked and stretched open for me and you want me so bad you’re gonna give me anything I ask for anyway.”

Harry bites his lip and feels his fingers curl against the wood, trying to gather enough brain cells together to come up with a reply.

“I’ve already got all I want,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, kissing him softly.

“Well, then you owe me something,” Harry whispers back and he can’t help the triumphant stretch of his lips as Louis chuckles quietly, amusement crinkling his eyes.

“Okay,” he gives in easily, like he’s proud of Harry for thinking of it and moves back half an inch so he doesn’t accidentally elbow Harry as he pulls the t-shirt up over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Harry’s hands come forward immediately, roaming over the skin, but Louis pulls them back again, planting them firmly behind Harry, leaning forward and making Harry lean back.

“Lift up,” he instructs and guides Harry’s leg high around his waist, pulling Harry forward into his body until he’s perched on the very edge of the table and slowly guides himself inside his body, watching the flutter of Harry’s eyelashes as he fights to keep his eyes open.

"Harry," he calls teasingly with a half smile of victorious amusement as he tries to refocus his attention, "For what I'm about to do, you might want to hold on tight."

Louis' grin grows like Harry's confusion until he bites his lip in concentration and pulls Harry towards him by hands at his back. Thinking he's going to slide off and crash to the carpet, Harry's legs instinctively tighten around Louis' waist, locking behind at his ankles and grabbing at Louis' neck. His quick "oh fuck" is said with a note of inevitable defeat in the face of pleasure and the realisation that Louis' just picked him up. Louis' eyes flash in warning when he feels Harry risk letting go with one hand to attach to his bicep and squeeze, fingers tracing the flexing muscles. The movement underneath his skin increases when he adjusts his grip on Harry, taking hold beneath his arse to keep him open wide and easy to fuck him with his cock, even standing up, as he forces Harry to obey the up and down motion. Louis can feel him breathing against the side of his throat, where he's tucked his face in close, and he kisses Harry's cheek then angles his head to join their mouths when he sends him a curious look.

From how Harry's moans have evened out slightly and his kiss is more direct, Louis decides that will not do and carefully steps towards the L-shaped sofa nearby with Harry still very much ensconsced in his arms. He lays him down gently across the seats, grasping Harry's legs to pull them away from his back and then hoisting them high in the air. The change in position makes Harry feel momentarily tighter and Louis drives into him with long, sure strokes that become interspersed with the odd complete withdrawal for a few cheeky seconds and Harry's toes curling onto his collarbone as his lips fall slack.

As Louis leans over him, Harry clings onto his back to keep him where he is but he unwittingly fits into his boyfriend's plan. When Harry's hands seem to be roaming lower, Louis wedges his underneath Harry's broad shoulders and gets to his feet again with Harry's calves still pressed to his collarbones. Clutching each other's arms for stability seems easier somehow, although he has an idea that Harry is not just breathless from the obvious. He suspects he can feel the stretch and the burn in his legs like Louis can feel in his biceps, but strangely he doesn't want to stop, wants to see how long he can last before Harry either tells him that bearing down on his cock in this way is too much to withstand or that they'll both fall in a heap of uncoordinated limbs. The spontaneous part of him kinda likes that thought, of having a giggle like they usually do, but then his own breath catches as he takes note of the sweep of Harry's curls left unchecked across his eyes because he has no hands to push them back and how the colour of his mouth is darker from the biting and the licking and swollen from the kisses now that he's no longer bent over in front of Louis, begging to be owned.

Suddenly, with an intense burst of desire fizzing hotly up his spine, Louis groans and finds that whilst Harry's returned to his vocal self, he selfishly needs more. Since he's so far gone with feeling Harry grip the life out of him, his shamelessness cannot be contained and he places Harry onto the sofa, nosing at his neck for better access and licking his Adam's apple in apology.

"Louis," Harry gasps, arching his back as Louis rolls his hips down again and tweaks Harry's nipple sharply at the same time.

"Turn over. Now."

"Oh god," Harry moans shakily, like he doesn't quite know how to cope when he hears that tone from Louis, that tone which brooks no argument whatsoever and he should know better to think it does.

Louis retreats and lightly holds himself by the base of his cock, afraid of exerting any real pressure lest he come too soon as Harry gets onto his hands and knees and faces away from him. As a result, he's quick to enter him again and smacks him on the arse for old time's sake. Harry's breathing stutters as shocked as before and Louis looks down as Harry starts to push his arse back towards him. Louis' not entirely sure who's more shameless anymore.

"How is that fair?" he rhetorically asks, pitching forward so his front rubs along Harry's arched spine and his mouth is wetly against Harry's ear.

Louis edges himself towards the backrest of the sofa and eases down onto his side, taking Harry with him and swallowing his moan from the drag inside him with his tongue.

Harry's mouth falls away on a pant and Louis wedges the arm he's lying on underneath Harry's body, bringing it around to pull at a nipple. His other hand trails down Harry's arm, the teasing touch of his fingernails raising the fine hairs on it. Louis grabs Harry's hand and links their fingers while he keeps pushing into him, Harry angling his hips to meet his thrusts. The sofa quickly feels too warm and a bit sweaty underneath their skin. The fabric sticks to their skin and Louis isn't sure if he's imagining that light creaking noise and if he isn't, whether he should worry. But he also can't find it in himself to care, not when Harry brings a hand down to tug at his cock. Louis immediately raises the hand linked to Harry's, but Harry's not letting go, so it's both their hands that curl around Harry's wrist and pull his hand away from his leaking erection.

"No, darling," Louis says, his own speech strained from exhaustion. "I want you to come just from this. Just me inside you."

Harry makes a broken sound but complies easily enough and Louis has to sink his teeth into Harry's shoulder hard, Harry's flinch attesting to the pain but the way he relaxes into it after that showing that it's still on the okay side of the too much line.

"But I guess, if you want to help...." Louis then goes on and trails their linked hands down to Harry's thigh, pulling it up against Harry's chest and curling Harry's hand around the back of his knee. He lets go of Harry's hand then but seems to change his mind at the last moment and instead of drawing back he pushes his hand upwards underneath Harry's leg, so it's hooked in the crook of his elbow and his fingers touch against Harry's open lips.

"Go on," he encourages and Harry sucks them inside, his tongue curling around the two digits Louis allows, grazing his teeth against the pads of his fingers. Louis' thrusts slow as Harry distracts him, but Harry seems to be too distracted himself to complain. His tongue snakes down to the sensitive webbing between Louis' fingers and the touch seems to shoot straight to Louis' cock. Neither of them are going to hold out for much longer, so Louis pulls his fingers back and instead curls his other arm around Harry's chest more tightly, holding him to his own.

"Hold on to that leg for me, alright, love?" he asks and then trails his fingers down to where his cock disappears inside Harry in slow, sweeping strokes, their hips angled to hit his prostate on every stroke. Harry whimpers and turns his head away, down into his own arm and the sofa when Louis touches the stretched ring of Harry's muscles with his damp and cool fingers. The first finger slips in so easily, Louis has to bury a moan in the back of Harry's neck, feeling his own toes curl as he wiggles in the other one. There's more resistance this time, but he thinks he could probably get a third one in as well, without hurting Harry. He tries to quash down any images in his head because if he doesn't this is going to be over so, so very soon. Instead he pulls at Harry's muscles just a bit and Harry cries out at the confusing shock of cool air slipping inside along the heat of Louis' flesh.

That thought to put a third into the mix niggles at Louis' brain until he can't ignore Harry squeezing his sheathed fingers and responding with a writhe when Louis rubs against his prostate and shoves up with his cock.

"More?" he teases, his touch lightly dancing over the newly formed ridges of Harry's abdomen.  
Harry presses his nose onto the sofa and whimpers.

"No - stop - I can't - "

Grinning mischievously, Louis pulls his fingers free, leans forward and pushes Harry to half twist down onto more of his stomach. Louis drags his arm out from underneath Harry's side and chest as he straightens his back enough to put a hand to Harry's arse and shift his hips backwards. Harry breathes out in a rush as Louis watches his hole contract and hold onto nothing before he devilishly plunges back in with practised, lubed ease. Harry opens his mouth, fishing around speechlessly, and digs his forehead into the seat as he obediently keeps gripping the back of his knee and Louis settles more directly on top of him. Louis' pelvis fits snug against the gentle slope of his arse and his arms stay wide outside Harry's broad shoulders.

"You bastard," Harry pouts as he arches his back down and Louis comes into view behind him, both of them knowing he can't touch himself in this position.

"You fucking love it," Louis grits out, lowering his head to lick into Harry's mouth and raising a palm to swipe across his arse again. "Want you to come from my cock."

"Please, Lou, harder!" he moans as a clue. His words make Louis curse but he does as requested and his thighs flex against Harry's as he fucks him with more force. Harry moans in relief, his long back stretching almost languidly, canting his hips so Louis’ cock catches on his prostate again. Otherwise though he stays still, letting Louis fuck into him. Louis grabs onto Harry’s waist, gripping the skin hard enough to redden it, a possessive gesture more for the hell of it than anything else. Harry turns his face back towards the sofa to avoid a crick in his neck and Louis instantly misses the flush on his cheeks and the red, bitten, swollen bow of his lips. Since he can’t see his face anymore, he starts to paint the picture with his words.

“Fuck, Harry, your face. Do you have any idea how sinful you look every time I’m inside you? Your cheeks flush and you never stop biting or licking your lips. Your pink, obscene lips, they drive me crazy, you know that?” he pants and Harry whimpers and buries his face in his arms like he’s trying to hide it, suddenly bashful in a way he only ever seems to be around Louis. Louis swells with pride every time it happens and he leans forward to press a tender kiss to the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry makes a soft little cooing sound and Louis just knows he’s biting his lip again and drawing his eyebrows together and suddenly he has to see Harry’s face again. He pulls back and slips out of Harry, ignoring Harry’s pleading “no”.

“Turn around, love, I want to see you,” he says, feeling breathless and grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder to twist him around. Harry gets with the program as fast as he can and for a few moments their limbs are everywhere and a tiny giggle escapes Harry. Then he’s on his back and Louis grabs his legs, clamping them in one arm against his chest so both his calves come to rest on one shoulder and the laughter morphs into a moan as he pushes back inside. One of Louis’ own feet is planted on the floor for leverage, the other is tucked half under his body, half into the backrest of the sofa.

“Look at me. Open your eyes, Harry,” he demands and Harry’s eyelashes flutter and his eyes remain hooded even as his gaze locks with Louis.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Louis says, reaching for the hand Harry trails down to his cock and entwining their fingers, keeping Harry’s hand away from where his erection is leaking onto his stomach. Harry whines and reaches with his other hand, but Louis shakes his head at him.

“Don’t,” is all he says and Harry throws his head back and breaks eye contact momentarily, but clutches the edge of the sofa instead and lets Louis power into him. He doesn’t really need the extra stimulation anyway but he feels like he’s been on the precipice of climax for so long, he _wants_ it.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m gonna make sure you come all over that soft skin of yours. You don’t really need your hand, do you?” Louis asks, like he’s been reading Harry’s thoughts and Harry can’t help shaking his head in agreement.

“That’s right, this is enough for you, isn’t it? Just being laid out for me and letting me fuck you as much as I want. I could keep you here for hours, not letting you come and you wouldn’t lay a finger on yourself just because I said so. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry confirms, his eyes fluttering back open and staring up at Louis, his pupils having almost swallowed most of the stormy grey-green. He’s still moving with Louis’ thrusts, his teeth worrying his lower lip, a flush high on his cheeks.

“Oh, look at you, you pretty thing. You stare at me like you’re some sort of untouched saint when we both know you’re anything but that.”

Harry moans and pushes his arse more insistently into Louis’ crotch, begging him without words to finally see this through to the end. Of course Louis catches the meaning and truly he’s not faring a lot better than Harry. His breathing is ragged, sweat beading on his skin and his voice is rough and a little shaky, but he seems determined to not yet give in fully. Or at least go out teasing.

“You’re such a slut sometimes, I really shouldn’t encourage that.”

“You love it,” Harry gasps out, a grin spreading his lips wide and Louis gives a few punishing thrusts, hitting his prostate and on the last he stays sheathed inside Harry, circling his hips, pressing and maybe rubbing a little against the sensitive spot inside Harry. Harry’s back arches off the sofa and his mouth is stretched wide in a silent scream, his throat locking up around the noise.

“Tut, tut, Harry. What a horrible thing to accuse me of,” he grins, but eases off a little, allowing Harry his breath back. Harry gasps through a few thrusts before he begs,

“Louis, please, I… anything… please!”

Louis groans in answer and picks up the speed of his thrust. Watching as Harry raises the arm he had been clutching the edge of the sofa with up over his head to press against the arm rest and gain leverage, pushing back against Louis. Harry’s breath stutters and then, on a broken “Lou-“, he comes, splashes of hot come over his own chest. It’s like Harry’s release breaks the resolve in Louis and he gives one, two, three more thrusts into Harry’s tightened up body before he spills deep inside. Harry groans quietly and Louis lowers his legs to around his waist so he can lean forward and lick inside his swollen mouth. He doesn’t want to pull out yet, the urgency of reaching climax gone, but the need to touch Harry, to be connected to him, still as strong as before.

“Wanna know a secret?” he breathes against Harry’s lips and when Harry’s tongue snakes out to lick his own in anticipation, he necessarily swipes over Louis’ as well.

“Sometimes I wish there were two of me so I could fuck your arse and your mouth at the same time. I don’t want to share you but I know you’d look so fucking hot.”

“Louis!” Harry whines, his eyes falling shut again, like he’s embarrassed and Louis kisses his cheeks and his eyelids and his temples and nose and laughs “sorry”, quietly. Harry hugs him close and they bury their faces in each other’s necks, not caring about how damp they are all over. Louis licks at the sweat on Harry’s skin actually, when Harry whispers.

“I’d let you. If there were two of you.”

Louis’ laugh is a rumble deep in his chest.

“Like I said. Slut.” He presses his nose against Harry’s cheek, continuing their whispered conversation like they’re waiting to be caught out. Well, Louis doesn’t exactly remember locking the front door yet…“And y’know just for that I’m not sure I want to leave…”

“Then don’t.”

Harry grins and tightens his arms around the back of Louis’ neck and shoulders so that he’s trapped in his hold. He even tries to squeeze his thighs against Louis’ hips but he aches all over and soon gives up with an annoyed exhale and a pout, rolling his eyes when he feels more than hears Louis shake with mirth.

“I think I have to. This could get…messy.”

It takes him a second, but then Harry looks so pleased with himself and mutters a small “oh” of understanding. “Do you care?”

“Clearly you don’t, so I have to.” Louis leans on his forearm and twists a curl around his finger, his eyes crinkling fondly as he looks down at how content and nonchalant Harry is. He follows the line of Harry’s jaw with his lips. “Such a dirty, dirty boy.”

“We can...clean up...after?” he suggests, imploring.

With those eyes, Louis finds himself nodding in agreement before realising he has a question. “Although what do you mean ‘after’? After what?”

He withdraws from Harry and isn’t quite prepared for him to immediately slip stickily into his lap once he’s sat back on the sofa and stretched his arms out along the top. Sprawling openly like that means Harry can do anything to him and Louis feels a palm run up to his chest as he comes closer, keeping the intensity and their contact confined.

“You had your way with me,” Harry says, slightly hoarsely and right now all the better for it, “so surely that means I should have the chance to do the same to you...”

“I thought you were tired and achy?”

“Can’t keep a good guy down,”

Louis quirks an eyebrow, “I think I just did, babe.”

They both giggle, but Harry’s seems to be humouring Louis as he rolls his hips a little and his arse rubs onto his upper thigh, streaking him with sweat and lube and his own come because they didn’t use a condom. It should feel strange and filthy but Louis can’t keep his eyes off Harry’s face, seduction written all over it and pulling him in like the moment he first got home.

Harry looking down breaks their locked gaze and Louis feels his pulse jump in his neck when Harry dips his head and flicks his tongue over his nipple. He’s slicked with cooling sweat and his cock brushes wetly along the skin below Harry’s navel, his hips lifting in reaction when Harry’s mouth closes around his nipple and gently bites. Louis grabs for his curls too, something that’s so easily accessible it’s almost automatic. What isn’t is the pleasure-pain ravaging on his body and how, in contrast, Harry’s movements can only be described as a slow, building rut. Louis forces him back and quickly sinks his teeth into Harry’s neck, hearing him gasp when he sucks hard in retaliation.

“Okay,” he acquiesces breathlessly to Harry’s wish, hand buried in the back of his head as they look to each other, eyes dilating and riled up.

Harry climbs off him and turns around, giving Louis a view that he can’t complain about. In fact, he lets Harry walk away and sits there, head tilted like he’s committing the picture to memory for whenever he’s alone. Of course, Harry realises within seconds that Louis’ not following and returns to him, reaching for his hand to pull him up.

“What do you want?” Louis half laughs, knowing the answer but getting a kick out of making Harry tell him all manner of dirty fantasies.

Harry holds him lightly by his face, hands spread right underneath his jawline and against his neck, “You.” His fingers wander down to Louis’ biceps and then to palm his arse and shove him closer so Louis can feel Harry pressed entirely along his body. “I want to suck you off. And do you know what else?”

“What?”

“I want you to sit right here,” Harry puts his hand just beneath his collarbones, “and fuck my mouth and then I want you to come on me. Move.”

That hand comes down to Louis’ arse and the resounding smack makes him blink at Harry, barely flinching because it’s not the first time they’ve enjoyed some rough and tumble but the tone to Harry’s voice is what has Louis walking. The situation’s been flipped, but there’s no way Louis minds. He lets Harry have the reins, smiling when he comes up behind him, arms at his waist, and ambles them both towards their bedroom.

**The End**


End file.
